Sisters Found. Joan Johnston
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be glad to help—although I’m not sure what I can do,” Rabb said.
A furrow appeared in Amanda’s brow. “I have to pick flowers for the church and a design for the cake and I have some final decisions to make on my wedding dress. I’m afraid I’ve left everything to the last minute. I was busy with school until a few days ago, and now everything has to be done at once. It would help to have another opinion.”
“You’ve got it,” Rabb said.
“I wouldn’t want to take you away from your work.”
“My hours are flexible, and I was planning to take a little time off for Christmas anyhow. Where do you want to start? Flowers? Cake? Or dress?”
Amanda laughed and realized how strange it felt. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed. She felt…carefree and happy. Suddenly, activities she’d been looking at as chores seemed like they might be fun. “I don’t know. Can I call you later?”
“Sure,” Rabb said. “Meanwhile, we have things to do.”
Amanda sighed. Yes. There was always work to do. She stood and began collecting the dishes to carry to the sink.
“I’ll help you with the dishes later,” Rabb said. “I think the rest of the afternoon would be better spent taking a ride.”
“What?”
Rabb took her by the hand and was tugging her toward the door. “Come on, Amanda. I know you ride. I’ve seen you with Jake.”
“You mean go for a horseback ride? Now? This afternoon?”
“Sure. Why not?”
“What about the gazebo?” She looked around at the mess in the kitchen and said, “What about the dishes?”
“They can both wait. There’s no telling how long this beautiful weather will last. Go put on your boots. Let’s take a few hours and get away from it all.”
That sounded so wonderful. It also sounded irresponsible. “I have so much to do,” Amanda said, “I can’t possibly—”
“I won’t take no for an answer,” Rabb said. “You have two seconds to go for your boots, or I’m going to throw you over my shoulder and haul you off like you are.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” Amanda said, titillated by the threat, but not quite believing it, either.
“Oh, no?” Rabb said. He reached out and tickled her ribs.
Amanda scrunched her arms down tight and tried to wriggle away. His arms came around her as his hands insinuated themselves beneath her bent arms and wormed their way up to her underarms.
“Oh, God.” She giggled. “Stop. I’m ticklish!”
“Gonna get your boots?”
“Yes!” she shrieked. “Yes.”
“Then go,” he said, freeing her abruptly.
Amanda took off at a run—she never ran in the house—giggling and laughing all the way.
“Hurry back,” he shouted after her. “Or I’ll come up and get you.”
For one treacherous moment, Amanda considered letting him do just that. In her bedroom, she kicked off her loafers, shoved her feet into her black cowboy boots, and ran—good grief, she was running again—back down the stairs.
She was grinning when she stomped into the kitchen. “All right. I’m ready to go. Are you satisfied?”
“God, you’re so beautiful.”
Amanda’s grin faded. What was she doing? What was she thinking? She had no business running off with Rabb Whitelaw for an afternoon of…merriment. She had dishes to wash. And plans to make. For her wedding. To his brother.
She gripped the back of a kitchen chair so hard her knuckles turned white. Because she had to hang on or go tearing out the door with him. “You’d better go,” she said.
“Mandy—”
“Just go, Rabb. Now. Please.” When he didn’t move, she said, “Get out!”
A moment later he was gone. And she was alone. Again.
CHAPTER FOUR
AMANDA WAS STILL IN BED LONG past the time when she normally would have been up and busy. She’d tossed and turned all night, feeling guilty over her treatment of Rabb. She wouldn’t blame him if he never came back to fix her gazebo. He probably thought she was crazy. She certainly had no rational explanation for her behavior.
She sat bolt upright at the first sound of hammering, then threw off the covers and scrambled out of bed, heading for the window. She turned and hopped right back into bed when her feet hit the frigid wooden floor. She reached down under the bed, found her bunny slippers and put them on, then trotted to the window. Well, the summer temperatures were gone.
She could see Rabb was putting up new lattice, but he was wearing a shearling coat and leather gloves. She shoved the window up and yelled down at him, “What are you doing?”
He smiled and waved and said, “Good morning, Mandy,” as though the events of the previous afternoon had never happened.
Well, if he wanted to pretend things were fine, she was happy to forget the way she’d acted.
“I could use a cup of coffee,” he said. “When you’re up.”
“I’m up now,” she said, shivering as a blast of cold air hit her face.
“You’re still in your pajamas,” he countered. “But I like them. You look cute.”
Amanda glanced down at the baby doll pajamas she’d slept in. They were impractical in a way none of her everyday clothes were. Skimpy and sexy and very…pink. No one had ever seen them but her. And no one was supposed to see them.
“I’ll be down in a minute,” she said, slamming the window and yanking down the shade.
He thought she looked cute. She ran and stared at herself in the bathroom mirror. Cute was a word for teenagers. Thirty-two-year-old women were never cute. She looked…ridiculous. She ought to be wearing something more appropriate for her age.
But she’d had to be up several times at night with her mother during those years when she could have worn silly, flighty, fun clothes to bed, so she’d made up for it once her mother passed away by buying things like the girlish baby doll pajamas she wore now.
She ruthlessly yanked them off, washed her face, brushed her teeth and put on the clothes she wore on cold days. Slacks, loafers with socks, an Oxford cloth shirt and a pullover crew-necked sweater. She shoved a brush through her short hair, slicked on some lipstick and headed downstairs.
No sense pretending she was anything she wasn’t. Forget being cute. She kept her hair cut short because it was easy to take care of and, except for her pajamas, bought practical clothes that would last.
She boiled a cup of water in the microwave and added a teaspoon of instant coffee. No coffeemaker for her. Speed was of the essence. Time was something she never seemed to have enough of. Or at least, that was the way it had been for eleven years. It had been difficult to readjust her mindset in the years since her mother had passed away. All right, impossible. She had the feeling she could never catch up, never get back those years she’d lost.
She stuck her head out the screen door and said, “Cream and sugar?”
“Lots of both,” he shouted back.
Jake liked his coffee black. Another little difference.
She preferred just about anything hot to drink except coffee, but she didn’t feel like making either tea or cocoa right now. She wanted to get outside and apologize to Rabb.
She’d